"What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. “Compromise and kindness. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. " "'Bloody and deceitful men shall not live half their days'," said Wood, reading aloud another passage.
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